Cambion
by FirebenderWhopper
Summary: During the Summer between Harry Potter's first and second year, Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban. After an unfortunate mishap and an ominous deal, Harry is swept away from the Dursley's to be raised by the King of the Crossroads, Crowley, himself.
1. Chapter 1

_Alright, this is my first attempt at posting a fanfic. So far, my plan for it involves two parts. The first will be mostly centered in the Harry Potter universe with Crowley's presence the only real involvement with the Supernatural universe. The focus will shift more onto the SPN universe in part two. This first chapter posting is mostly to get a sense for people's opinions of my work. If you all think it is any good, please tell me. If you notice an error that my beta, apentotheheadandimdead who is found on AO3, or I missed, excepting any canon picking, please feel free to point it out in a constructive way so I can fix it. Flamers beware, though; I have it set to allow me to delete reviews within 36 hours of their posting. While I'm not opposed to constructive criticism, flames will not be tolerated. Also, I'm not going to hold chapters for ransom in exchange for reviews, I hate it when authors do that, but I'll be posting on a very spotty schedule in the beginning. This is because I only have a few chapters written as of now, but once I build up more of a lead on chapters, I will hopefully post more frequently. That said; please enjoy this story, brought to you by Ovaltine. Just kidding, please don't sue me._

**Chapter 1- The Escape**

Cornelius Fudge was frantic. The sensors monitoring the prison cells in Azkaban had detected a missing prisoner. Aurors were rushing back and forth throughout the Ministry as alarms blared and clerks were anxiously cross-referencing past prison logs with the morning's inspection sheet to determine who was absent. Suddenly, his secretary poked her head through the door and announced, "Minister Fudge, the Warden from Azkaban is here."

"Ah, yes, send him in right away," the portly politician replied. Seeing his secretary about to leave, he quickly added, "and we are not to be disturbed!"

The Warden was quickly ushered into the Minister's office. Despite the circumstances, his face remained blank. Eyes staring straight ahead with shallow cheeks and a sharp jawline, it was clear that his time serving as Azkaban's Warden had taken its toll on the man. Minister Fudge shivered imperceptibly at the sight of him.

He took a seat in one of the cushy armchairs in the office and heaved a great sigh before tilting his head down, as if trying to compose himself before speaking. The Warden raised his head.

"Minister Fudge, sir, we've identified the missing prisoner. Prisoner 24601, Sirius Black, escaped from Azkaban last night, 14th July, 1992. Based on reports from the Dementors leading up to his escape, he will most likely be looking for Harry Potter. This information was determined from Black's habit of muttering in his sleep about the boy in question," the Warden finished.

"Sirius Black," Minister Fudge questioned, "you're sure?"

"Yes Minister."

Cornelius Fudge seemed to deflate. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped first his sweating brow, then his quickly reddening face. This was a complete disaster. Not even two years into his tenure as Minister for Magic and he had the first recorded instance of an escape from Azkaban on his hands. The person rumored to be You-Know-Who's right-hand man, no less! There was much that had to be done if they were to catch Black. He would have to contact Dumbledore and look into what was wrong with the Dementors if Black managed to escape on their watch.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a man who had seen and done many things, both great and terrible. He had lived through and led the fight against two ascendant Dark Lords, was responsible for molding the minds of the young witches and wizards of Great Britain, and served as head of the International Confederation of Wizards. On the other hand, he had conspired with Grindlewald in his youth until they split apart after Ariana's death and failed to prevent Tom Riddle's rise to power. Of course, his greatest regret involved Lily and James Potter and their son, Harry. When the war was at its peak, the Order knew there was a traitor amongst them. James and Lily began to suspect Remus Lupin, while Albus himself suspected Peter Pettigrew. Of course it was only after that tragic Halloween that the real traitor revealed himself, Sirius Black.

When Albus learned that Sirius Black had escaped, and that he was possibly after Harry Potter, the aging Headmaster lost no time in reactivating the Order of the Phoenix. He sent Fawkes with a message to all of the old guard and personally visited the Burrow to see about getting Molly and Arthur to attend that night's meeting. As parents of one of Harry's best friends, their input would be invaluable.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Albus was quickly greeted by a nervously excited Molly Weasley.

"Oh, Albus, thank goodness you're here! Arthur's just floo-called from work," she explained. "Is it true? Did Sirius Black really escape from Azkaban?"

"Yes, Molly, however much we may wish otherwise, Sirius Black has managed to break out of Azkaban," the aging professor replied.

"Oh how horrible!" she exclaimed. "I hoped the children wouldn't have to grow up with the same concerns as us." Mrs. Weasley was now close to tears as she wiped at her face with the hem of her shirt.

Seeing her distress, Dumbledore reached out a hand and clasped her shoulder. Guiding her over to a chair in the kitchen, he bade her take a seat as he busied himself making tea. He worked in silence and, when the tea was ready, sat down next to Mrs. Weasley.

"Molly," he began after the Weasley matriarch had finished her tea and was somewhat calmed, "it is not as bad as you may think. As we speak, Fawkes is delivering a message to members of the Order of the Phoenix. We are meeting in my office at Hogwarts this evening to discuss plans to search for Black and to protect Harry. I would like it if you and Arthur were able to attend the meeting as well."

"Why would Harry need us to protect him?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Albus sighed before answering, "As you know, Black is rumored to have been Voldemort's second in command. What you don't know is that he was also Harry's godfather. It is likely that he will try to contact Mr. Potter, either to avenge his fallen master or to turn him to his side."

"Oh, Harry, the poor dear," this time the mother of seven really did cry. She may have only met him once, but she still worried about him. "Do you think he's alright, Albus? Ron has been trying to write to Harry all summer and so far he hasn't received a single reply!"

At hearing this, Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly. He had not thought that Harry would turn his back on a friend. Perhaps the Dursleys had taken Hagrid's warning to heart last summer and Harry was simply too busy catching up with his family. Yes, that was most likely what was happening here. Albus was glad to hear that Harry's family was finally beginning to accept him. The young man had known too much hardship in his short life as it was. Seeing that Molly was now nearing hysterics, he decided to say something.

"Molly, I do not believe that Mr. Potter is in any _immediate_ danger from Sirius Black. He is probably just enjoying his time with his family."

"Of course, you're probably right, Headmaster. I'll just let Ronald know that his friend is probably spending time with his family. He'll be sure to understand when I explain it to him."

"Excellent! I will see you and Arthur tonight at six o'clock. I will leave you to your housework now. Good day!" And with that, Albus Dumbledore walked into the fire place and shouted, "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" then promptly disappeared in a swirl of flames.

_Just keep swimming. Don't stop. If you stop, you die._ He was so tired. And hungry. And cold, the fact that he was currently swimming through the North Sea certainly didn't help matters. But, most of all, he just wanted to see Harry. That, more than anything, even the desire for freedom, was what drove him on even in his emaciated state. He never should have gone after Peter. He placed avenging James and Lily over his own duty as Harry's godfather. If Lily were alive, she would have torn strips from his hide.

At last, after several hours of swimming through frigid water and no less than three muscle cramps, escaped prisoner Sirius Black made landfall on a rocky beach in the Orkneys where he promptly lost consciousness only to be awakened by a particularly forceful wave crashing over his face. The overall dampness and cold only served to briefly remind him of his claustrophobic prison cell before he felt the sun on his skin. Opening his eyes, Sirius was initially delighted to find that his bid for freedom had succeeded until he remembered why he had escaped in the first place.

His time in Azkaban had not been pleasant. While the Dementors did not drive him insane like some of the other inmates, they did force him to relive his worst memories. He was forced to review, over and over, moments he had tried all his life to forget: The time when he was six years old and had asked his mother why she hated the Muggles, he had not known there were so many ways one could punish a child with common household spells until his mother hexed one of his sweaters to strangle him. Or the months following the incident in their sixth year at Hogwarts when he had almost gotten Snivellous killed -Merlin were the others mad at him!

Those memories were both minor irritants compared to the Dementors' favorite memory, the night James and Lily died. That one was replayed most frequently. One day, some months before his escape, something snapped into place and he realized that Dumbledore had most likely taken little Harry to Lily's Muggle sister and her manaphobic husband. And so he began developing a plan to escape and the rest, as they say, is history. Taking the wand he managed to lift off of a careless guard, Sirius Black disapparated with a loud cracking sound.

He reappeared in a dark alley just a little ways away from the Leaky Cauldron and immediately transformed into Padfoot. He could not risk someone going in or out of the dingy pub recognizing him, but he had to get into Diagon Alley so he could catch up on the news. Seeing a contingent of poorly disguised Aurors entering the pub, Sirius moved deeper into the dark alley. Sometime after the Aurors disappeared, when the sun was starting to set, he decided to make his move. He marked a small magical family entering the pub and put on his best 'help me, I'm lost' face. When they saw him, they shrank away before the little girl started fawning over him.

"Mummy, Daddy, look at the cute little puppy! Can't we take it with us," she begged.

Seeing their four year old child approach a strange, large dog sent a thrill of panic through her parents. "Suzy, darling," began the mother, "why don't you step away from that dog? We don't know where he's been!"

Sirius licked the little girl's, now identified as Suzy, hand before rolling over on his back and whining to match Suzy's pleading face. The father began to crack first.

"Norma, love," he said, "let's take the dog with us. He seems harmless enough and we're going to Diagon Alley anyway. We can get him checked out and buy all of his gear at the Magical Menagerie while we're there."

Faced with the irresistible puppy dog eyes, from both the dog and her daughter, and her husband's logic, Norma decided to give in to their pleas. "Alright, Robert, we can take him with us. Suzy, I know you're excited but I don't want you playing with the dog until we can get him checked out for any diseases, okay?"

"Okay, Mummy," the little girl shouted, "thank you so much!"

_Finally_, Sirius thought to himself as he followed the family of three into the pub, things were actually beginning to go his way for the first time in almost eleven years.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Wow guys! Thanks for all of the support so far with the reviews and favorites :D. I can't believe how positive this story's reception has been so far. Here's Chapter 2. It doesn't jump around like Chapter 1 did. I'm going to try and limit the POV jumping from now on, unless it's absolutely necessary. To the person who suggested some sort of line break between section, on my original document I had line breaks, when I uploaded to my formatting erased them. I'll try to find a way around that in the future. Thanks again, as always, please read and review!_

_ P.S.- I forgot this last chapter, but I don't own anything in this story. All recognizable characters either belong to J.K. Rowling or Kripke. And do to copyright laws (if I'm interpreting them correctly), anything I do with their characters also belongs to them._

**Chapter 2- Meetings**

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was currently feeling very pleased with himself as he walked into the atrium in the Ministry of Magic. While yes, Sirius Black managed to break out of Azkaban, Cornelius felt that he had handled things responsibly. After his meeting with the Warden of Azkaban, the Minister had quickly organized the Aurors and sent them into Knockturn and Diagon Alley in force. He had then done the sensible thing and contacted Albus Dumbledore. Fudge realized that having Black on the loose could possibly lead to a new Dark Lord, and if there was anything the Wizarding World did not need it was one of those, and who better to have on his side than someone who had fought not only one, but two Dark Lords in the last century? In fact, he was on his way to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, apparently a secret group of witches and wizards who fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, right this very moment. Stepping into the green fire, Minister Fudge said quietly, but forcefully, "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," and disappeared in a swirl of green fire.

Upon exiting the fireplace, Minister Fudge was greeted by the sight of dozens of moving, silver instruments on numerous shelves and a golden perch on which rested a stunning red and gold phoenix. Just as soon as he began to wonder where Dumbledore was, the man in question came through the door to the office with a sallow faced man in black and a stern looking woman in a green robe trailing behind him.

"Hello, Cornelius," the Headmaster greeted, "I trust you remember Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape?"

"I believe I do, Albus. Hello, Minerva, Severus. It's good to see you both, even though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Likewise, Minister," Professor McGonagall replied.

Severus Snape just sneered at Albus, "If you had just expelled Black in our sixth year, we wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. It's bad enough that I have to teach Potter during the school year, now I assume you'll be asking everyone else tonight to go around looking after him as well."

Professor Dumbledore sighed and gave Snape a disappointed frown, but before he could answer the other members of the Order walked through the door.

Molly and Arthur Weasley quickly entered and took their seats. Following them were Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin, who in turn were followed by Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge. When everyone was seated, Dumbledore stood and began the discussion.

"It is good to see all of you in good health after so long. While I am sure many of us wish that an official gathering was unnecessary, the issue of Sirius Black is of the utmost importance-"

"Quit stalling and get to the point, Albus," Moody barked.

"Very well, Alastor. As I was saying, the recapture of Black is vital. For more reasons than many of you may know," Albus began again, "we must work not only to help the Ministry capture him, but in the meantime we must also protect Harry Potter."

It was Dedalus Diggle who asked, "Why would Black be after Mr. Potter?"

"Think, you fool," Professor Snape bit out through clenched teeth. "Black was the Dark Lord's second-in-command. It is likely that he views Potter as the cause of all of his problems. When the Dark Lord fell, Black lost everything. In his unhinged mind, it makes logical sense for him to go after the brat to avenge his fallen master."

"I'm afraid it's worse than that, Severus," Professor McGonagall said, her voice weak. "As I'm sure you are all aware, James Potter and Sirius Black were like brothers to one another. What you don't know is that when Harry was born, Lily and James named Black as Harry Potter's godfather."

"Come now, Minerva, surely it isn't as bad as all that. The Potters wouldn't have made a Black godfather to their only child, even if he was a close friend," Elphias Doge countered, sure of himself and the Potters sense of propriety.

"You're wrong, Elphias," Remus Lupin gently corrected, "I was there when Sirius was named godfather. Lily thought he was too immature but James insisted." He lowered his head, lost in memories of happier times and for a moment there was silence.

Finally, Minister Fudge interjected before the arguing could resume, "I believe it is time we get to the actual purpose of this meeting, Dumbledore. To that end, I will begin by saying that I have been working with Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour to fully mobilize the Auror force to patrol the Alleys around the clock and to prepare the detention cells for when Black is recaptured."

"Very good, Cornelius," the Headmaster replied, "but what of Hogsmeade? Surly the Ministry must realize that Black may very well decide to hide out in the village once term begins, if only to be closer to Harry."

Startled by his own lack of foresight, Fudge gave the first answer that came to mind, "Actually, Albus, I was thinking of stationing the Dementors in the town with a complement of wizards from Azkaban nearby to cast the Patronus charm if they trouble the townsfolk."

"But Minister!" Minerva exclaimed, "What about the students who visit Hogsmeade? You cannot honestly expect the parents to be thrilled that those monsters will be stationed so close to their children."

"Minerva," Albus answered for the bewildered politician, "I believe, that in this instance, we may have to concede that the Minister has a point. You know how I feel about Dementors, but we will simply have to send out a notice to the students stating that due to the escape of Sirius Black, Hogsmeade visits will be cancelled for their own safety."

The room descended into chaos as Professor McGonagall, Dedalus Diggle, and Elphias Doge tried to change Dumbldore's mind. Finally, after much yelling, gesturing and stomping of feet, Moody called the return to order for the room and silence reigned once more.

"Now, Albus," Moody began quietly, "you mentioned at the start that there were other reasons why Black had to be recaptured beyond the obvious. It may help put some of our minds at ease about the soul-suckers if you'd quit dancing around the issue like a damned Russian ballerina and told us all what in Merlin's name is going on!" He finished loudly.

Dumbledore paused a moment, as if considering the potential damage his information could cause, before nodding to himself and beginning, "Certain events occurred last year that have confirmed a theory I've had for a long time. Lord Voldemort," here he ignored the collective flinch from most of the room, "is not as dead as we may have wished."

Minister Fudge quickly paled and the rest of the room went so still and silent that when Fawkes let out a cry, many in the room jumped at the unexpected noise.

"W-what do y-you mean, Albus?" The Minister for Magic stammered. "I, that is to say, we all thought he was dead and now you tell us that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is alive? That's preposterous, He cannot be back," Cornelius finished sternly and made to walk towards the fireplace to leave this absurd meeting.

"Cornelius," Professor Dumbledore called, stopping the man in his tracks, "if you would simply listen to the evidence I have assembled and view a memory from my pensieve, I believe you will see the truth."

"Oh very well, Albus, I'll listen to your evidence after this meeting, but this had better be worth it. I can't just go to the public and tell them the 'Darkest Wizard of the Century' is in fact still alive. It would incite panic!"

"Thank you for humoring an old man, Minister," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling for the first time that night. "Now, for the Minister's sake, let us work under the _assumption_ that Voldemort," again the room flinched, "is alive. With Black, a man who is widely regarded as his de facto chief lieutenant, at large it is only a matter of time before he attempts to seek out his master and return him to power. Obviously this is something that no one here tonight would like to see. Therefore, it is imperative that we capture Sirius Black before anything catastrophic happens."

While everyone took a moment to absorb this new development, Remus was the first to speak again. "Headmaster, we've already talked about how we plan to guard the major economic centers so long as Black is on the loose, but you have yet to mention how we are to protect Harry if Sirius makes a bid for him."

"Right you are, Remus, forgive an old man for 'losing the plot', as they say. I intended for members of the Order present tonight to take shifts guarding Mr. Potter's home for the rest of the summer." Seeing Minister Fudge about to object, Dumbledore correctly guessed his concern and added, "Minister, while I have the utmost faith in Britain's finest, I must insist that the Aurors have nothing to do with Mr. Potter's immediate security. His greatest protection right now, apart from the wards I placed, is the secrecy of his location when he's not in school. While I doubt any of the Aurors would actively help Black, Mr. Potter is a celebrity," here Snape scoffed to himself, "and these things are often gossiped about. Surely you can understand that, being a public figure yourself?"

A mollified Minister Fudge nodded his head in agreement, before demanding, "Oh, fine then. But I insist that if Mr. Potter's home comes under attack that you notify the DMLE immediately! We need to be prepared to capture him the moment he reveals himself."

"That seems reasonable, Professor," Lupin said, "but I'm afraid I have something to tell you that may shed light on how Black escaped and that I know will be crucial in his recapture." Deciding to get it over with when he saw the silver-haired Headmaster's encouraging smile, he quickly confessed, "As most of you know, I am a werewolf," he resolutely ignored Minister Fudge's twitch as if to grab a wand, "and in our fifth year at Hogwarts, James, Sirius and Peter all became animagi to accompany me every full moon. James took the form of a stag, Peter was a rat, and Sirius was a great, black dog. He very well could have turned into his animagus form and slipped right past the Dementors and any other guards he may have encountered."

Severus Snape's face turned thunderous and Alastor Moody looked as if he would very much like to haul Remus in for questioning.

"Ah, thank you, Remus," Albus responded before the room could descend into chaos yet again, to keep the peace he added, "It was very brave of you to tell us this. I know you must have felt like you were betraying your friends' memory," before transitioning to the matter at hand. "Now, if no one else has anything to add," Dumbledore said as he glanced around the room, "I believe it is time we discussed the guard schedule. Tomorrow, Alastor and Dedalus, you will take the first shift from nine o'clock in the morning to three o'clock in the afternoon. Minerva and Severus, you will take over for them and will run your shift until nine o'clock at night. Arthur and Elphias, you will take the midnight shift from nine o'clock to three o'clock. And lastly, Molly and Remus will take their shift from three o'clock to nine o'clock in the morning. As Remus has pointed out, you should all be alert for a large black dog. I highly doubt that Sirius Black will simply walk up the street undisguised. Now, it is getting late, and I believe it is time we all return home and get some rest. Goodnight, everyone."

As the others rose and left either through the fireplace or out the door, Minister Fudge shakily got to his feet and approached Dumbledore. "Alright, Albus, let me see this evidence you have," he demanded.

"As you wish, Cornelius," the aging teacher began, "but you may wish to seat yourself before we start." Seeing Fudge take his advice, Dumbledore took a deep breath and continued his narration, "You may not know this, but I knew Lord Voldemort before his rise to power all those years ago. In fact, I was his Transfiguration professor when he was still known as Tom Marvolo Riddle-"

Fudge quickly interjected, "Riddle, Albus? I don't recognize that family name, was he foreign?"

"No, Minister, you do not recognize his last name because it is not from a magical family. Tom Marvolo Riddle," Albus stated again, "was a half-blood. His mother was Merope Gaunt, a near Squib daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, and his father was Tom Riddle, the son of a wealthy family of muggles in the sleepy town of Little Hangleton. However, when I delivered Tom Riddle Jr.'s Hogwarts letter, the young boy was living in an orphanage with his mother dead shortly after childbirth and his father having long ago washed his hands of anything to do with either mother or child."

"Come, come now, Dumbledore, you can't honestly expect me to believe that the Dark Lord, champion for pureblood supremacy, is actually a half-blood himself?"

"I do, in fact, expect you to believe it," Albus replied. "However that is not the proof you wished to see, is it, Cornelius? I have a memory of the events surrounding the demise of one Quirinus Quirrell at the end of last term. But before we proceed I feel I must give you some background information." Seeing the Minister's impatience, he hurried on, "My friend, Nicholas Flamel, feared that someone was attempting to steal his Philosopher's Stone so he asked me to guard it for him in the school. His fears were justified because shortly after Hagrid retrieved it from the drop point in Gringotts, someone attempted to break in to the vault."

Cornelius Fudge came to a sudden realization, "That's why the Goblins were so angry last summer, isn't it, Albus?" He continued, both infuriated and shocked "You mean to tell me that You-Know-Who broke into Gringotts, infiltrated your school, killed one of your teachers and made off with a Philosopher's Stone? I can't believe you didn't think it was necessary to notify the Ministry at the time!"

"Not quite, Cornelius, however I do believe the memory I have will make things clearer for you." Then, raising the tip of his wand to his temple, Albus removed a thick, silvery strand and placed it in a pensieve. Grasping the Minister's shoulder, he asked, "Shall we, my boy?" Together, the two men leaned into the bowl and vanished.

_The chamber was dark. The flames around them reflected dimly in the black marble floor as two figures, one adult and one child, wrestled with one another on the ground and a high, cold voice hissed, "Get the stone, you fool!"_

"Where are we, Albus?"

"We are currently in the last room in a series of chambers designed to protect the Philosopher's Stone," he explained. "What you see before you is Professor Quirrell, possessed by a shade of Voldemort, attempting to steal the Stone from Harry Potter."

_Suddenly, the man, now identified as Quirrell, reeled back from the boy as if he were burned. As if sensing his defeat, a dark cloud of malicious intent rose out of the man's body and fled the room after passing through the boy in an attempt at possession. As the spirit fled, two things happened at once. Professor Quirrell, now without the support of his master, crumbled into dust as Harry Potter collapsed from the stress of his ordeal._

When the two men returned to the office after the memory was finished, Minister Fudge was a mess. His face, now tinged green, looked as if he were very sick and wanted to vomit.

Seeing the poor man's distressed state, Dumbledore offered him a lemon drop, "They're laced with a mild Calming Draught that I find useful for dealing with emotional students," he added after seeing the Minister's questioning look.

As Fudge regained his breath and settled his stomach, they waited in silence. At last, he spoke. "He's really back, isn't he, Albus? What should I do?"

"I'm afraid so, Cornelius. I can only offer you advice, if you're willing to accept it."

"Anything," the Minister quickly exclaimed, "you've just got to help me! Everyone knows you were the only thing he feared."

"Then, if you are accepting my advice, I would suggest increasing both the quality and size of our Auror force. Our current numbers and standards leave the Ministry woefully unprepared if Voldemort should ever regain all of his old strength."

"Obviously," he agreed.

"I would also advise that you start sending out envoys to other European communities and various magical races: Giants, Centaurs, Werewolves, and even Vampires. Send an ambassador to anyone who might have reason to side with Voldemort. I would also suggest that you do a full screening for all employees in the Ministry to test their loyalties. Check everyone from Department Heads to custodial staff. If we can get rid of any sympathizers now, then it will be easier to prevent spies from infiltrating the government."

"The Giants, Albus? Why on Earth should I send someone to talk to them, or any of the other races for that matter?"

Dumbledore sighed and gave the man a stern look, "Cornelius," he said crossly, "if we do not try to actively encourage them to side with us now, before Voldemort returns, then any attempts on our part down the road will seem like insincere politicking when he does return and they will be less likely to accept anything we tell them as the truth."

"Oh, very well then. You're probably right, Albus, as usual. But don't expect me to be happy about it!"

"Why, Minister, I would never expect you to be happy doing this. It is necessary, believe it or not. If it helps at all, I believe history will one day remember you as the Minister who stood for what is right, even when you could have denied the truth and buried your head in the sand."

"Really, Albus," Cornelius asked? "If you honestly think this is for the best, then I will do everything I can to follow your advice." The conversation finished, the Minister left the office via floo powder and went home to a sleepless night full of concerns for the future.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who's followed this story, or added it to their favorites list, so far! I'm still surprised by how many people seem to like this. Also, as of the posting of this chapter I now have over one thousand views. Way to go, guys! I'm glad so many of you have read this. Once again, thanks goes out to my beta reader, apentotheheadandimdead on AO3. Also, special thanks to google translate for translations. From now on, all translations are found at the bottom of the chapter._

**Chapter 3- A Dog's Day Out**

Sirius Black could not believe his luck. Not only had he managed to escape Azkaban with his sanity mostly intact, but he had finally made his way into Diagon Alley. After slipping away from the nice family who escorted him through The Leaky Cauldron, he lost no time in making his way around the marketplace, spending the next two days listening to gossip and picking old newspapers out of trashcans. It was tiring work, but despite his immense fatigue and the gnawing hunger that seemed ever-present, Sirius felt that it was worth the effort. From what he had gathered so far, his initial suspicions were correct. Harry had been taken to live with his muggle relatives, only to be reintroduced to the Wizarding World shortly before his first year at Hogwarts. The only silver-lining for Sirius was that there wasn't an active 'Kill on Sight' order for him. The Ministry seemed to be emphasizing his recapture; maybe if he surrendered he could finally get a trial and prove his innocence? _No, don't be so naïve,_ he told himself. Of course, the Ministry would not be interested in the truth. So long as the _Daily Prophet_ could release a headline showing the capture of a dangerous criminal and the government got its good press, he wouldn't stand a chance at getting even a sham trial.

Just as despair began to settle over him, a plan started to form in his head. Except for the occasional Goblin War, the Goblins had a long history of neutrality in their dealings with other magical races. As such, they were unlikely to care about an escaped criminal coming in to meet with his estate manager. Business was business, after all, and if there was one thing the Goblins were truly concerned about, it was making a profit, even more so when they could snub their noses at the Wizarding World's laws while doing it.

_But how to get into the bank without those blasted Aurors noticing me_, he thought to himself. After all, the bank's defenses would likely notice that he was concealing his true self when he approached, and even if the wards did not notice that he was an animagus, the guards themselves were unlikely to allow some mangy looking dog in the front door. Nervously moving towards the bank, Sirius Black felt something prickle across his back at the same time as he noticed the armored guards adjusting their weapons. After what seemed like an eternity, he found himself standing before one of the goblins and noticed, much to his relief, that in addition to a wicked looking war-axe he-at least Sirius thought the goblin was a male-was also carrying a Probity Probe. Quickly, before the guard could issue a challenge or call for backup, Sirius bit his right forepaw and smeared some blood on the device.

He waited in silence until, at last, the guard called for the others to stand down before leaning over and whispering in his ear, "Greetings, Mister Black. Your account manager, Griphook, will be waiting for you inside. Please, stay in your present form until you and he are in the designated conference room to avoid causing any problems with our other clients." Then the guard opened the door and motioned him inside.

Upon entering Gringotts, Sirius looked around trying to find whoever this Griphook was. Spotting a lone goblin beckoning towards him, Sirius decided to follow him. They passed through many glittering, marbled halls lined with rich tapestries depicting scenes of gruesome battles with creatures ranging from Dwarves to Centaurs to Wizards. Finally, the duo came to a nearly deserted hallway and entered an empty conference room. After ensuring that nothing would disturb them, Griphook began.

"I apologize for the long walk, Mister Black. As you can see, though, we are now alone. In fact, we are so far within the halls of the bank, that I doubt anyone except for a goblin would know how to get to the lobby."

Realizing that they were truly alone, the black dog morphed into a man with long, straggly black hair and pale, sickly skin with slightly crazed eyes that shone with purpose.

"Thank you," Sirius Black replied, voice hoarse from disuse. "It's so good to be able to talk freely."

"I am sure it is, Mister Black. To business, then?"

"Right. What is the status of my account- wait, do I even have an account, still?"

"Actually, Mister Black," Griphook answered, "Because you were never officially convicted, we at Gringotts were never under any obligation to turn over the contents of your vaults to the Ministry."

Sirius smiled at hearing the good news. Then something registered as odd, "What do you mean by 'vaults'? As in plural?"

"Yes, according to our records, because you are the only living member of the Black family who has not been _convicted_ by the Wizengamot, upon your mother's death all of her assets became yours. As a result, everything that she owned, including your late father's and brother's possessions, is now yours. Unfortunately they are still in separate vaults as you were unavailable to order the moving of their contents. As you are aware," he elaborated, "it would take some time to move all of those items- money, artifacts, books, etc. - to a single vault, even if you issued the order immediately. If you would like, I can have a list of the contents of your vaults drawn up and sent to you after we consolidate everything. It should take approximately a week to complete everything."

"That would be appreciated, Griphook, but that is not why I'm here today. I've decided to take custody of my godson, Harry Potter," at this, Griphook's eyes widened, "and after I remove him from his aunt and uncle's custody, I intend to return to meet with you regarding my lack of a trial. When I give you the confirmation, you will to take the evidence and send it to Amelia Bones of the D.M.L.E. Furthermore, I also would like to name Harry Potter as my direct and only heir. Should I die, he will inherit everything."

"It will all be done as you wish and the paper work will be filed immediately, Mister Black" the goblin stated. "Coincidentally, I happened to meet your godson on his first visit to Gringotts last August. I was the assigned escort to his trust vault at the time. I think you will be pleased to know that, despite his upbringing and celebrity status, Mister Potter appears to be a curious youth with a good head on his shoulders. I believe you will be proud of him when you two meet."

"Thank you, Griphook," Sirius replied. Then, as he rose from his seat, he continued, "You cannot imagine how worried I was that Lily's sister and brother-in-law had done something to ruin him. Now that all of that is taken care of, I suppose that I should go get Harry."

As Sirius Black made to rise from his seat, Griphook made one last suggestion, "Mister Black, I can tell just by looking at you that you are most likely running on the last reserves of your energy. Whatever you did to escape from Azkaban and your subsequent journey to Diagon Alley have greatly exhausted you. I can also tell you that Mister Potter is probably being guarded night and day by Aurors and now that word of your status as a fugitive has made it into the Muggle press as well, the chances of you successfully retrieving him are slim at best." Before Sirius could object to his account manager's observations, Griphook continued, "Therefore, I believe it would be in your best interest to return to your family home. Our records show that most of its wards are still active, tied to the family blood as they are, and one of your family's house-elves is still alive. He will be able to care for you and nurse you back to health."

The last of the Blacks leapt out of his seat and exclaimed, "Kreacher! You mean to tell me that piece of filth is still alive? I had hoped that he joined _mother dearest_ in death."

"Regardless, Mister Black," Griphook calmly continued, ever the voice of reason, "the house-elf known as Kreacher is bound to you through blood. I would not be so hasty to send him away if I were you. He can no more directly harm you than a kneazel, and you should carefully consider the fact that he can be sent out to fetch potions and food for you if you should need them. Simply order him not to reveal himself to anyone who might recognize him or to betray your location, and there should be no risk to yourself."

Sirius sat in silence for a while, considering Griphook's advice, before finally speaking, "I suppose you're right, Merlin knows I haven't slept in days- years even, if you don't count sleeping in Azkaban, which I don't- and it would be good to get some rest and healthy food in me. Wouldn't want to scare Harry when I pick him up from his aunt's house, would I?"

Their business concluded, Sirius transformed back into Padfoot and allowed Griphook to lead him out of the bank. After he had melted back into the crowd, Sirius quickly ducked into a shadowy corner of Knockturn Alley and returned to his human form before swiftly disappearing with a loud _crack!_

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Upon reappearing in the ancestral manor of the Black family, Sirius was greeted by the sight of dust and decay and the smell of rotting wood. Before he could further ponder the decline of the once stately abode, he heard the wretched mumbling of a house-elf.

"Ignoble bastard, returned from living with mudblooded filth, no doubt. Now he probably expects Kreacher to allow him to sully the magnificent House of Black with his blood-traitorous ways. Poor, poor Mistress…"

"Hello, Kreacher," the sole heir to the Black family loudly interrupted. "It seems that you do not need my help to dirty this house. And as for my mother-"

Suddenly, a third voice chimed in, insane in both words and tone, "You! Get out of this house! I disowned you, shame of my blood! I regret the day that I spawned you, you traitorous filth. Been mucking about with werewolves and mudbloods these last eleven years, have you?"

Not to be dissuaded from his current plan, the escaped convict turned towards the portrait of the late, mad Walburga Black. "Hello, Mother," he coldly replied. "For your information, I've been in Azkaban these last eleven years- right next to dear cousin Bella, if you must know. I was arrested for the betrayal of James and Lily to Voldemort-"

But he was quickly cut off by the woman in the portrait, who quickly changed her tune, "_You_ betrayed Potter's family to the Dark Lord?" She laughed maniacally, "Perhaps I was wrong about you after all. You escaped from Azkaban you say? You must be exhausted. Kreacher! Tend to Sirius' injuries and nurse him back to health."

Just as he was about to correct his mother out of instinct, he caught himself. If he could fool her and Kreacher into thinking he was on their side, then he would have a much easier time recovering. How nice it would be to relax and rest without that damnable harpy shrieking at him around the clock! Besides, he might even be able to gain access to the family library. If he wanted to secure Harry as his, then there were a few rituals he needed to research. Maybe he could even find a way to get passed the guards that would assuredly be around the house.

"Yes, Mother, I will be happy to talk to you in more detail about everything. After I rest, of course," he smoothly lied.

"Oh yes, certainly! Kreacher! Show Sirius to his room."

Kreacher quickly left the foyer, Sirius following behind him. As the odd pair walked through the dank hallways of 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius began to reflect on his life before he left home. He could not do this. Being back in his own personal Hell was forcing him to remember long suppressed memories. The one time he made friends with a Muggle boy- _No Sirius, don't think of that_- this place was almost as bad as Azkaban! But no, he could not afford to think like that. He had to remain strong, if not for himself then for Harry. The manor was so well warded that it was the safest place for him to recover, so long as his mother and Kreacher remained convinced that he was truly a Death Eater. He had to put his personal demons aside for now, and when he was back to full health and Harry was safely away from Privet Drive, he could burn the house down with Kreacher and his mother's portrait inside.

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It was a few days after he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Sirius Black was finally feeling well enough to begin scouring the Black family library. Deciding that it would be more expedient to simply have Kreacher bring him all of the books on rituals within the library, the renegade fugitive called for his ill-tempered servant.

Appearing with a silent _pop!_ Kreacher bowed low and spoke into the carpeted floor of the mausoleum that was the manor, "Master called for Kreacher? Kreacher is here to serve. What does Master require?"

"Yes, Kreacher, I want you to bring me every book the family library has on rituals," Sirius replied, doing his best to conceal his disgust for the one who reminded him of his childhood.

"Right away, Master," the elf quickly replied. He disappeared and, five minutes later, Kreacher reappeared with a small stack of books in his hands. "Master, Kreacher has found every book in the library that met with your request. Is there anything else you require of Kreacher?"

"No, Kreacher, you have done enough. Go and try to remove some of the cursed sweaters from the closets," Sirius commanded. Then, after the elf left the room, he muttered to himself, "_Maybe the little cretin will get himself strangled._"

Grabbing the book on top of the stack, Sirius checked the title, _In Compendium Necromanticam Ritualia pro Novitii Mortuorum Evocatoris_, no, definitely not. Quickly setting the book aside- he felt like he was tainted just from touching it- he made to reach for the second book. Now this one looked promising, _Blut Rituale: Sowohl Gutartig und Bösartig_, but rather than immediately perusing its contents, he placed the book on German blood rituals in a third pile, intending to read it after checking the last book in the stack. Grabbing the third book, Sirius glanced at the title and treated it much the same as the first. He had no use for a book titled, _Ο οδηγός ενός Ταχυδακτυλουργός για τους δαίμονες του Τάρταρα_. There was no reason for summoning a demon from Hell, because that _always_ worked out for the one doing the summoning, right?

Realizing that only one of the three books Kreacher brought him was of any worth, he quickly began leafing through the pages. It seemed there weren't many benign rituals, and the only adoption ritual he had come across required not only a sacrifice, but also would have made Harry a full-blooded Black. Just as he was beginning to lose hope, he came upon the last ritual in the book. It seemed like it would work, the only requirement was some of his blood.

After a long day of tedious research, met with very satisfying results, Sirius chose to spend the remainder of the day resting. Even though he was well enough to pour over thick tomes, that did not mean he was capable of trading curses with Aurors if it came to that. A couple more days of potions and bed rest, and another few days of training with his new wand, then he would be ready to pay a visit to No. 4, Privet Drive. _Don't worry, Harry. Uncle Padfoot will be there soon enough._

**For those of you who don't know Latin, German, or Greek:**

_In Compendium Necromanticam Ritualia pro Novitii Mortuorum Evocatoris _**A Compendium of Necromantic Rituals for the Novice Necromancer**

_Blut Rituale: Sowohl Gutartig und Bösartig_ = **Blood Rituals: Both Benign and Malignant**

_Ο οδηγός ενός Ταχυδακτυλουργός για τους δαίμονες του Τάρταρα _= **A Summoners Guide to the Demons of Tartarus**


	4. Chapter 4

_Firstly, I would like to apologize profusely for the long delay in updating this story. When I last updated this story, sometime close to the end of April, I knew that finals were approaching, but I also was busy registering for Spring/Summer Semester classes. At first I thought this wouldn't be an issue. I was wrong. Then Spring Semester started and I was busy looking for a job. Then Summer Semester started six weeks later, and, well, have any of you ever taken a Statistics class with a curriculum intended for 15+ weeks condensed into six weeks? And then the Fire Nation attacked and my when I needed him most, my Muse vanished. Yes, I probably should have edited in an AN in Chapter 3 or at least commented in my profile, and for that, I'm deeply sorry. On a happier note, I'm truly delighted, and surprised, that so many of you are still following this story (and me personally). I still don't have much written for this story yet, but I have four weeks (starting August 4__th__) between Summer and Fall Semesters. I hope to get some more chapters written and posted in that time. Again, thank you for your continued support. Also, a special thanks to my beta, apentotheheadandimdead, on AO3. And as always, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. I am merely a child playing in a sandbox compared to their genius._

_I solemnly swear these notes aren't an attempt to pad my word count._

**Chapter 4- Summer Days**

Harry Potter, wizard, Boy-Who-Lived and currently a reluctant resident of 4 Privet Drive, was having a most unpleasant summer holiday. He didn't suppose he needed to be a seer to have known this in advance. The expression of pure loathing and revulsion on Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's faces as they waited for him at King's Cross, and if that was not enough, the expression of savage glee on his cousin Dudley's face, should have been all the warning he needed to know that this summer would be just as miserable as his life before Hogwarts.

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When he loaded his trunk and Hedwig's cage into the back of Uncle Vernon's new Mercedes -without any help, mind you- he was forced to squeeze into the backseat between the door and Dudley's massive frame as the rotund, blond monstrosity stretched out as far as possible. As Uncle Vernon continued to rant about all of Harry's chores he had to catch up on, and how they had been far too lenient on him-their fault, Vernon had said, for having such a strong sense of Christian charity-the poor boy had to alternate between attempting fend off Dudley's kicks and listening to his deranged uncle in case his inattentiveness was noticed. Unfortunately, Dudley seemed to notice his split attention and, in a rare display of a spark of intelligence, decided to call attention to Harry's distraction while they were driving somewhere along the A216.

"Dad," the bouncing blond beach-ball shouted, "The Freak's ignoring you and trying to crowd my space. Make him stay on his own side!"

Vernon quickly stomped on the brake, which almost resulted in a Volkswagen rear-ending them. Face purpling with rage, reaching that _oh so lovely_ shade of puce that only he could manage, the man rounded on Harry.

"Now you listen to me, _boy_" he spat in Harry's face, coating it lightly in spittle. "Your aunt and I were too good to you last summer. We took you to the zoo on Dudley's birthday, gave you his second bedroom, relaxed your chore requirements, and even put up with your freakishness." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And what has our family received in return for it? Nothing! You set a snake on my son. _My son!_ We've been bombarded with letters, driven from our home; Dudley got a pig's tail from that oaf that we had to get removed, not to mention the racket your owl makes. I won't have it anymore, I tell you. When we get home, I'll be locking up all of your freaky school things under the stairs. You'll be lucky if I don't do the same to you, if you try anything. Now just keep quiet the rest of the way home," he finished, panting heavily. Before resuming driving, he turned back one last time and said to Dudley, "Son, if the Freak gives you anymore trouble, just kick him in the ribs. You have to fight your own battles after all; you are a Smeltings man now, Dudley!"

Dudley looked at Harry and grinned wickedly._ This is going to be a long summer._

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That was almost a month ago. Four weeks later, and still Harry had received no communication from anyone in the Wizarding World. No letters from Ron, Hermione, or even Hagrid. It certainly did not help matters that Dudley never ceased to mention his lack of correspondence, even going so far as to suggest that perhaps Harry really did not have any friends, and that his own kind also regarded him as just a freak. Of course, Harry would get his own digs in by whispering fake spells under his breath whenever his cousin was in earshot. Dudley's comments still hurt, though. And now Uncle Vernon's dinner party with the Masons had been moved up to Wednesday night-Mr. and Mrs. Mason had forgotten they had opera tickets for the night of the thirty-first, much to their embarrassment.

While Harry was happy to watch the Dursley's fret about the change in plans, it also meant that he now only had two days to finish all of the chores he was assigned to prepare for the dinner, as opposed to an entire week. To make matters worse, he was told in no uncertain terms that if he did not stay on schedule with the new demands, he would not be eating or receiving anything to drink until the party was finished. So now it was around four o'clock in the afternoon on the day that the Masons were supposed to arrive and the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Mulch was tending to Petunia's rose garden in the stifling summer heat; without gloves, water, food, or sunblock. Sometimes he really did hate his relatives. Leaning back to stretch his muscles and wipe his brow, Harry noticed two things: first, that his hands were bleeding in spots from the roses, and second, that Dudley was waddling over to him with an ice cream covered face.

"Hey, Freak," the other boy called, "I don't think Mum would be too happy to found out you're slacking off when the Masons will be here in a couple hours. I'm going to go tell!"

Laughing his piggy little head off, Dudley penguin-walked back into the air-conditioned house as quickly as his porky little legs could carry him.

Deciding that it would be unwise to be seen taking a break by his Aunt, Harry quickly redoubled his efforts and, half an hour later, when Petunia Dursley walked up behind him, he was so engrossed in his work that he did not even notice her until she cleared her throat. Startled, Harry turned around and was met with the sight of his Aunt standing in front of him, frying pan in hand, and glaring down at him with Dudley standing in the back smiling wickedly.

"Dinky Diddydums tells me you have been slacking off, Potter," his Aunt stated imperiously. "Just like your lay-about father, no doubt. I expect it was too much for Vernon and I to hope that you would turn out decently even after all we have sacrificed for you," she went on, shrilly. "Now poor Duddikens will have to waste his time watching over you to make sure you finish on time. You have one hour before I come out here to check on you and it had better be finished or you can forget about eating tonight." Her diatribe finished, Petunia swiftly strode back into the house to finish vacuuming.

And so the following forty-five minutes were spent with Harry pulling weeds and pruning the dead flowers when, suddenly, he found himself being pushed face first into the rose bushes. The next thing he heard was Dudley's squealing laugh before something snapped and Harry wished with all his might for something that would make his cousin be quiet. Before either boy knew what was happening, a growing crackling sound was heard. Looking up from his position in the flower bed, Harry noticed his cousin pale and felt a growing heat around him. Jumping up and looking at the roses, Harry felt his stomach sink… The rose bushes were on fire! So transfixed by the fire was he, that he never noticed Dudley run back inside. As the fire continued to grow, so too did his anger. He could feel it threatening to consume him, like a wildfire inside his chest and all of his repressed resentment was suddenly ready to explode forth.

Harry was swiftly brought back to reality when his cousin returned with his aunt. Though the fire had died when his attention wavered, the roses were still little better than a charred mess of ashes now. Seeing her beloved rose garden destroyed, Petunia Dursley rounded on Harry with a vengeance.

"Boy! What did you do?" she shrieked. "I knew we never should have taken you in! I thought we could stamp the unnaturalness out of you. Vernon and I should have known it was a bad idea. You've brought nothing but misery upon this family."

As she ranted, Uncle Vernon pulled into the driveway. Seeing his wife berating the little freak and mourning over her flower bed, the overly large man put two and two together and realized that the m-word was responsible for whatever was going on here. Quickly striding over to the scene, Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and turned to his beloved wife.

"Here now, Pet, what has the boy done now?" he asked.

"Oh Vernon," she sobbed. "It's simply horrible. I had him out weeding and pruning the rose garden-you know how much I wanted to show Mr. and Mrs. Mason my flowers—when Dudley came and told me he was slacking off. Of course, I would have none of that so I set Diddikins to watch the little wretch to make sure nothing happened. Sure enough, not even an hour later, our son came screaming into the kitchen to tell me the garden was on fire!"

As Petunia told her tale, Vernon's grip on the poor boy's neck began to tighten and Harry began to struggle for breath.

"Look what you did now, boy," he growled lowly, shaking his nephew by the neck. "I warned you at the start of summer, didn't I?" Vernon started getting louder. He was shouting now, "It's back into the cupboard with you, Potter!"

Unfortunately, Vernon was so caught up in shouting at Harry, that neither he nor his family noticed a black Buick pulling into their driveway, nor the outraged looking couple stepping out of the car. Suddenly, everyone heard the sound of a door slamming shut and wheeled about to see the Masons. Uncle Vernon quickly dropped the beleaguered wizard who barely caught himself before his face hit the ground.

"What is going on here, Dursley" Mr. Mason demanded. "My wife and I came expecting a lovely dinner and to discuss a potential merger with your company, and now we see you nearly throttling a young boy and your wife in tears. I hope you have an explanation, sir, or I will have to inform your superiors that I will not be able to do business with their company."

Panicked, Mr. Dursley quickly stepped away from Harry and put on his most sorrowful expression.

"The boy is my nephew," he explained. "He is highly unstable. My wife had spent all day tending to her lovely rose bushes. When he saw she had finished with them, he decided to set the garden on fire. He's a spiteful little boy. Always giving our son problems and bullying the other children. We think he might be mentally incapacitated from the car accident that killed his parents. His mother drank heavily when she was pregnant with him, too," Vernon lamented.

As the two men stood conversing, Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He knew that his parents had not died in a car crash, of course. And he knew that Vernon could not tell the Masons the truth, but his mum was not a drunk! He did not know for sure, but he didn't think a woman who would sacrifice herself for her child would drink while she was pregnant.

Just as it looked like Vernon Dursley might be able to weasel his way out of a difficult situation, an owl swooped down, terrifying Mrs. Mason who quickly ran and hid in her car. As Mr. Mason was ripping into uncle Vernon about his poorly planned joke—Mrs. Mason was terribly afraid of birds—Harry noticed that the owl had dropped a letter. It was addressed to him. As the Masons were driving off, the walrus mustachioed man turned towards the object of his outrage and noticed a letter. Seeing the boy's pale face, he took great delight in forcing him to read it out loud.

Terrified, Harry began, "_Dear Mr. Potter._" He paused to swallow thickly before collecting himself. "_The Ministry of Magic has detected the use of a fire based spell at your residence. As you are well aware, you are the only underage wizard living at No. 4 Privet Drive, and as such you are the only one who could have used this spell. Consider this an official warning from the Ministry. You have already been warned once before leaving school for the summer. Any more acts of underage magic may result in fines or an expulsion. Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the Department for the Detection of Underage Wizardry._"

By the time he was finished reading, Harry was shaking. There went his only defense. Now that the Dursley's no longer had to worry about him turning them into mice in their sleep, there was nothing to stop them from locking him away like before. He was doomed.

That was when Harry noticed uncle Vernon's wicked grin.

"That's it, boy! I warned you. Oh how I warned you. It's high time you were punished. We tried to be fair with you, but my patience has reached its end. You're going back in that cupboard tonight, and tomorrow I am going to install new locks on it. You'll never get out. And if you try to use your freakishness to escape, that madhouse will expel you!"

Picking Harry up by the scruff of his neck again, Vernon chuckled maniacally as he carried his nephew into the house. His wife and son following close behind. Petunia opened the door and Vernon threw Harry headfirst onto his old cot before slamming the door shut.

Where Harry hit the cot, his head banged against the wall. As the cupboard door slammed, Harry slipped into unconsciousness. When he awoke several hours later, it was to darkness and despair.


End file.
